The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. “Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison.
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